


Uncivilised

by TheFeistyRogue



Series: Inception Fics [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Crossover, F/M, M/M, Rating May Change, Romance, Warnings May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeistyRogue/pseuds/TheFeistyRogue
Summary: Obi-Wan finds himself in Westeros. He's not best pleased by that fact. He'd really like it if someone could invent a more civilised form of transport than horseback, as having to share with this Jaime Lannister fellow on his way to a place called Winterfell is not Obi-Wan's idea of a good time.





	1. Dead Men Walking

The portal spat Obi-Wan through the air and he tumbled onto dirt and twigs. He rolled to his feet, the hum of his lightsaber his only comfort.

“Hello?” he called out. He glanced up at where the portal had been only moments ago. Instead of a swirling mass of silver energy, there was only blue sky and the tops of green, coniferous trees. The karking Sith Temple he’d been exploring had deposited him into a forest, one that he didn’t recognise.

“This is General Kenobi to Command. Do you copy?”

Obi-Wan eyed his comlink as it crackled. There was no answer. Obi-Wan repeated himself, trying various channels, to no avail.

“Anakin? Cody?” Neither replied. Curse the Sith and their ancient artefacts, for they surely had something to do with his relocation.

He tucked the comlink away and eyed the vegetation, trying to figure out where he was. It didn’t look as if he was still on Dathomir—the sky was too bright, the flora too alive. Snow was falling gently and he could make out the faint trills of a bird.

Still, the forest was quieter than that he’d expect from one of the major vegetative planets. There were only one sun and one moon in the sky, so he couldn’t be on Naboo or Endor. Perhaps he was on Alderaan, although he didn’t know how such a portal could exist that would be able to transport him halfway across the galaxy.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and allowed himself to embrace the Force, trusting in it to show him the way. His body was filled with warmth and a sense of reassurance.

“Where do I go?” he murmured.

When he opened his eyes, he holstered his lightsaber and strode forward with a sense of purpose. The Force had laid a path before him; all he could do was follow.

Hours passed, and on Obi-Wan walked. He’d had to draw his robes closer about him; he’d been dressed for cold on Dathomir, but the snow had settled and the night was drawing near. This was cold unlike anything he was used to.

Just as the sun began to set, an unusual noise caught Obi-Wan’s attention. He dropped into a fighting stance, lightsaber flying into his hand. He did not light it.

The noise had come from the road which Obi-Wan had been walking along. It was a dirt path, with no obvious tracks of hovercraft or other, faster, more civilised means of transport. Although Jedi were not supposed to indulge themselves, Obi-Wan hoped that he’d soon be able to get off his feet and beg a ride from a kindly traveller.

_“In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours.”_

A man was singing, his voice rough and unpolished. He sounded as if he’d been at a bottle of Corellian Whiskey. Obi-Wan stepped into the shadows of the nearest trees and waited for the traveller to pass.

To his disappointment, the man was riding a horse—not wealthy enough to afford something automated, Obi-Wan assumed. He was handsome, blonde and chiselled, although his beard disguised his features somewhat. He was also dressed in a bewilderingly old-fashioned outfit that looked like something from the history holos, a similar idea to clone armour, but far more intricate, with an artificial hand made from gold. Obi-Wan reassessed his opinion on the man’s wealth as a sickening thought occurred to him: perhaps he was on a planet with limited resources. What if the planet hadn’t been introduced to the Intergalactic Republic at all?

Deciding to take a risk, Obi-Wan stepped forward.

“Greetings, traveller. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Who might you be?”

With surprising agility, the traveller drew what looked to be a steel sword, and his horse whinnied, rising on all fours. Obi-Wan took a step back, not wishing to take a kick to the chest. The man’s blue eyes were sharp and wary, not dulled by the drink Obi-Wan had previously assumed him to have consumed.

“Who are you?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he repeated. “And yourself?”

The man scoffed, his gaze flickering from Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, still not lit, to the outfit that he wore.

“Of what house? Who is your liege lord?”

Obi-Wan frowned.

“I serve the Jedi Order. I would never serve a Sith Lord, nor a lord of any sort.”

The man seemed bewildered by his words, and Obi-Wan was coming to realise that his worst fears may very well be true.

“Have you heard of the Galactic Republic?” he asked. “Where is the nearest spaceport?”

“Of all the men I could encounter upon the road, I encounter a lunatic,” the man muttered to himself. “Go on, shoo! Do you not know who I am?”

“I’m afraid not…” Obi-Wan said. Before he could continue, a twig snapped behind him. The sun had fully set, and he did not hesitate to light his saber as he spun on one foot.

A girl stood before him, eyes glowing an unnatural blue.

“Good evening,” Obi-Wan said. She did not reply.

“That’s a wight!” the man behind him snarled. “Run!”

The wight—whatever manner of creature that was—stepped forward with outstretched hands. As Obi-Wan took her in fully, he realised that the skin was hanging off her bones, and she seemed to have a bolt of metal in her chest. He spun his saber, falling into Ataru. With two swipes, he decapitated the creature and sliced it in half.

“Where there’s one, there’s always more!” the man said. His horse was prancing on the spot, and he was wielding his sword with his left hand, his eyes wide with fear.

Obi-Wan didn’t know how well the man could see, but he wasn’t wrong. There were five ‘wights’, each with glowing, blue eyes and the stench of death about them.

“Too late,” he said. “What are they?”

Something primal within him rebelled at the sight of them.

“Dead men walking,” the man said. Somehow, Obi-Wan realised he wasn’t being metaphorical.

“Most unnatural,” Obi-Wan commented, and launched himself forward, the blue light of his saber guiding his way.

The wights died like any humans would, if he removed their limbs or heads or sliced them in half. They were slow, mindless, and so he flipped himself from tree to tree and cut them to pieces. The horse behind him had not bolted and the man on it had managed to trample a wight of his own by the time that Obi-Wan had killed the remaining four.

“By the gods, I’ve never seen anyone move like that. Who are you?”

Obi-Wan straightened, inspecting the dead bodies for any signs of life. There were none.

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight of the Jedi Order,” he said. “I have been displaced from my Dathomir and I need to find my way back. Do you have any intergalactic communications on this planet?”

“Intergalactic?” the man repeated. “Ser Kenobi, I thank you for your help, but I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

“It is as I thought.” Obi-Wan took a breath. It seemed that he’d been transported to a planet so far from Coruscant that not even the Republic had reached it. “Where am I, if you would be so kind as to inform me?”

“About a day’s ride south of Winterfell, if my bearings are correct.”

“And what is your name?”

“You really don’t know,” the man said. He chuckled, as if the very idea was ludicrous. “My name is Jaime Lannister. I’m on my way to fight for the living, as I promised that I would.”

“For the living, you say?” Obi-Wan considered the stars. He didn’t recognise a single constellation. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll join you.”

“Hardly,” Lannister said. “Let us continue on and leave the dead behind.”


	2. To Winterfell

Horseback was possibly the worst form of transport anyone had ever invented. Obi-Wan actually thought he might prefer to ride a bantha, or a starship with Anakin at the helm, than ride a horse for any length of time. He kept his complaints internal, but his travelling companion would have to be a fool not to notice Obi-Wan’s discomfort.

“For knight, you don’t have much experience with horses, do you?”

Obi-Wan grimaced.

“Very little. I prefer a more civilised form of transport.” He was clutching at Lannister’s waist in order to prevent himself from falling off the damn thing. “And technically I’m a general, not a knight. I suppose it hardly matters, now that I’m on this backwards planet.”

The horse trotted on, each step it took jarring Obi-Wan to the bone.

“A general? Of what army?”

“The Republic.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of it. What land do you hail from?”

Obi-Wan swallowed a sigh.

“A galaxy very far away. Coruscant, if you must know.”

“A good name. I am pleased to have met you, Obi-Wan of Coruscant, even if we are on our way to certain death.”

“I kriffing hope not,” Obi-Wan muttered. Lannister shifted in front of him as the horse stumbled. It was fully dark now, with only the moon and the stars lighting up the sky.

“Do you think you can manage to hold the reigns? If not, we shall have to make camp. I’m too weary to continue on.”

After careful consideration, Obi-Wan concluded that they’d likely both fall off if he was steering the horse. 

“Horses aren’t steered… I sense this is a fruitless discussion,” Lannister said. He pulled the horse to stop. Obi-Wan slid off, shaking out his aching muscles. “It never properly gets light in these lands. When the sky brightens, wake me, or if you need to sleep. One of us will have to stand guard.”

“I can hold vigil.” 

Lannister took his time settling. He brushed down his horse and curled up under his cloak, sword clasped in his hands. Obi-Wan leaned against a tree trunk, arms folded, contemplating the world he’d found himself in.

Dead men come to life, antiquated infrastructure and technology, and an impending sense of doom. Perhaps the Sith had placed Obi-Wan in a nightmare. Or perhaps he’d been displaced in time. It was a dark day indeed when the idea he’d been grounded on a planet so far on the Outer Rim it hadn’t had any contact with the wider galaxy was a positive alternative. He fiddled with his coms, however, Anakin had always been the dab hand at electrical mechanics, not he.

Time passed and the forest fell quiet. Obi-Wan didn’t sense any of the hollowness in the Force that he’d felt when the dead had approached them before, but he remained wary. Finally, the horizon began to grow lighter. Several hours had passed and Obi-Wan was beginning to feel weary himself. He ate a protein bar from his belt and shook Lannister awake.

“Not far to go now,” Lannister muttered. “Just a few hours on horseback.”

Obi-Wan bit back a groan. “Joy of joys.”

Lannister flashed him a grin, unusual, compared to how solemn he’d been so far. It took fifteen years off his age.

“Come on, you can’t say you’re not having fun.”

“I’m not having fun,” Obi-Wan said, but he cracked a smile at Lannister’s smirk. “So, who are you, then? I got the feeling from your introduction that I was missing part of the picture, somehow.”

For a moment, Lannister’s smile dimmed, but then it grew wider, insincere.

“Prince Jaime Lannister, at your service, ser knight.”

Somehow, Obi-Wan got the sense that this society was far more feudalistic than Naboo’s had been.

“I should have known that I was in the presence of royalty. Only someone of royal blood could enjoy riding this lump of a creature.”

“Oh, hush. Palmio might take offence.”

Obi-Wan glared at the horse and pulled himself up behind Lannister. “If you say so,” he replied dubiously.

“I do,” Lannister retorted. “Now, let me get you up to speed, my fair traveller, as you seem to have very little understanding of the world that you’re living in…”

By the time they’d arrived at Winterfell, Obi-Wan had a much fuller understanding of Westeros and its surrounding continents. The idea that there existed beasts like krayt dragons, only more formidable and more intelligent, was nearly as disturbing as the idea that a malevolent being was intent on murdering every living thing on the planet and the only people that wanted to stop him were making a stand from inside a stone castle.

“Trebuchets,” Obi-Wan murmured, shaking his head. “How I wish for blaster cannons.”

He fell silent when Lannister nudged him and followed where the man gazed. 

Winterfell was a majestic castle of dark stone and jagged battlements, topping the hill as they approached. Obi-Wan had seen bigger and more modern, but there was something awe-inspiring about the structure when he remembered that it would have been built by hand.

“This is where we separate, I think,” Obi-Wan decided. Before Lannister could object, Obi-Wan jumped clear of the horse, grateful to be on solid ground once more.

“Where will you go?” Lannister asked, clearly baffled. 

“I wish to scout ahead and see this threat for myself. Don’t worry about me, now—I’ve already proved I can handle myself, haven’t I?” 

“You have… against four of them, not four thousand, or four hundred thousand!”

“That many? Really? How dreadful. I shall have to put a dent in their numbers.”

Lannister looked gobsmacked.

“If you don’t come to Winterfell, you’ll surely be killed.”

Obi-Wan reached inside himself for the Force and was certain that he was on the right route.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. There was always a chance he would have to give his life in service of the light. “But then again, perhaps not. Keep yourself safe, Your Highness. I suspect that I’ll see you again soon enough.”

Lannister tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed. “Call me Jaime. You’ve earned it, I suppose.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Until the next time, Jaime.”

Jaime kicked his horse into action and they trotted away. Obi-Wan raised a single hand in a solitary farewell. Jaime didn’t look back, for which Obi-Wan was glad. To be full of regret was to be full of fear, something neither of them could afford if what lay ahead was truly as Jaime had said.

Obi-Wan began to jog North, following the outskirts of a forest on the edge of the camp at Winterfell. A few men saw and hailed him, but as they could see that he was living, they did not seem to mind what he was doing.

If an army of the dead walked South, Obi-Wan was going to do everything in his power to prevent them from reaching further. He thought of the Battle of Naboo, and how the droids had all collapsed when the Droid Station had been destroyed. If he could kill one of the infamous White Walkers, would then all the wights it had enchanted die too?


	3. Looking Up

Frost nipped at Obi-Wan’s whiskers. He drew his hood closer about himself and settled several feet off the ground, curled against the bough of a mighty tree, its trunk stretching over an arm's length. It was freezing and he’d had little sustenance; he needed to rest. He let himself fall into a meditative trance, absorbed in the Force. He would wake if threatened.

Obi-Wan jerked out of his trance sometime later. He felt refreshed, although still cold to his bones. He looked around, wondering why he’d woken.

_ Crack _ .

As he looked down, the dead walked beneath him. They marched in silent swarms, the only sound the crunch of their feet against the forest floor. There were thousands of them, as far as he could see. They were only a few hours walk from Winterfell.

Above the crowd, a creature with pale skin and gleaming blue eyes rode a skeleton horse. Obi-Wan shivered, despite himself. This was a White Walker; this was what he’d come here to slay.

Obi-Wan did not dare move for fear of drawing its attention. Instead, he stayed crouched, waiting for it to draw closer. An aerial ambush was his best bet of survival. 

The horse paced beneath the tree Obi-Wan had taken refuge in. Obi-Wan forced his aching muscles into action, leaping from his perch. Whether alerted by sound or magic, the White Walker was spinning in the saddle, raising his icy sword to meet Obi-Wan’s lightsaber as the Force brought it to his hand.

His lightsaber hummed against the sword, which seemed to be made from an ice-like material. The ice began to melt, but the Walker was fast, hand snapping out to maul Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan ducked under and whipped his lightsaber around, aware that he had to finish the fight before the wights could attack him too. He somersaulted from the horse and used the Force to cripple the beast, bringing it to its knees. A look of shock crossed the White Walker’s face, then Obi-Wan impaled it upon his lightsaber. They froze together, Obi-Wan panting, the Walker clutching at his saber, then it shattered like a sheet of ice, shards of it caught in the wind blowing away to dust.

The screeching wights tumbled to the floor, silenced. Obi-Wan realised that some had been grasping at him in those last moments as they fell against him, dead bodies once more.

“It’s possible,” he said aloud. He chuckled, then released a sigh of relief. “By the Force, that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done, Anakin.” 

He turned, half expecting his Padawan to be by his side, by Anakin was not there, of course. No one was. Only a host of dead bodies and an empty forest. Grief welled in his chest, but he released it into the Force.

Obi-Wan began the march back to Winterfell, determined to warn the living men of what was coming. More importantly, he would be able to bring them hope.

The White Walkers could be stopped. They could be killed. Even the dead could die once more.

A high-pitched screech made Obi-Wan jump out of his skin. He lit his lightsaber, glancing around at the dead. They were still inanimate—but he didn’t want to take any chances. Obi-Wan broke into a jog, stowing his saber away, hoping to make a faster pace back to Winterfell now that he knew the route.

However, when he broke through the tree line, a horrifying sight greeted him. An enormous black and red scaled lizard, settled on its haunches, gazed at him with an eye that was as tall as Obi-Wan stood. It shifted, snakelike, teeth bared. This was one of the beasts Jaime had been talking about.

“Hello, there,” Obi-Wan said. He bowed, keeping an eye on the dragon the entire time.

The dragon snarled. It was a magnificent beast. Obi-Wan could only hope that he was too small to be deemed dinner.

“Good afternoon to you, kind ser,” a soft and sweet voice replied. Obi-Wan straightened, his jaw-dropping. Had the dragon spoken?

Then a woman appeared, dismounting from behind the dragon’s head and approaching him on foot. She was of petite stature but walked with confidence, with silver hair and eyes that burned like purple kyber crystals lit from within.

“You must be Queen Daenerys,” Obi-Wan summarised. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“A Knight of the Jedi Order, so I’ve been told.”

“That is correct.” Obi-Wan inclined his head. “I’m not local to these parts.”

“That is quite evident. You’re not from Essos or Valyria, either. Where did you come from, Knight Kenobi?”

“Another world,” Obi-Wan said, quite honestly. “It’s irrelevant, regardless. I’m on this planet now. While I am not one of its citizens, I will gladly serve for the good of the people.”

“Yes, Ser Jaime made that quite clear to me when he spoke of you. He claims you wield a sword of supernatural abilities.”

“I call it a lightsaber.” Obi-Wan gestured with his hand and the Force bent to his will, the saber flying into his grasp. He eyed the dragon, then lit his saber, the blue glow bright against the snow.

“Are you a witch, as well?” Daenerys seemed curious, but not afraid. She had little reason to be, with the dragon behind her. The snow beneath the beast was melting, a clear indicator of the fire that lay within its belly.

“I am a Force user. It appears to be magic to some, but it is a careful and exact science. I use the Force for the good of all living beings, as best as I can.”

Suddenly, Daenerys smiled, bright and pure. “Is that how you brought down an entire army of wights?” She gestured to the forest. “I was scouting from above when I saw the army fall.”

Obi-Wan returned the smile. “Not quite. In fact, it was a simple task, if a difficult one.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“In order to kill the wights, I killed the being that created them. I slew a White Walker and the wights fell with it.”

“That is good news.” Daenerys turned on one foot and walked back to her dragon, stroking the scales by its muzzling, whispering to the beast. “Come. We must return to Winterfell. You shall simply have to ride with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote and posted this to FF.com, I thought I'd get the odd remark on how peculiar the crossover was.
> 
> Instead, I got some very positive feedback that's encouraging me to continue this as more than the silly one-shot I intended. No promises, but I do love Obi-Wan kicking ass and taking names.
> 
> Also, in this universe, lightsabers are as equivalently good at killing wights as Valyrian steel.


End file.
